


The Long and Winding Road

by carolion



Series: Cowboy!Cook AU [4]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not," David said, trying to be bold and, well, failing. His voice wavered. "I'm not sorry. I'm - I'm really glad."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long and Winding Road

David knew there was no way he'd be able to sneak away from his family to see Cook within the days before they left, not after pulling the sick card once already, and not unless he admitted to them that he was kind of, um, seeing someone. A cowboy someone, with calloused hands, and a blinding grin, and soft lips, and really nice eyes, and an amazing singing voice. Someone who made him feel - well, completely different. Kind of, like, whole? And alive. And _special_. Just thinking it made David blush though, because those were totally childish, romantic thoughts, and he knew better, he really did! Because he'd totally prepared himself the day after - the day after their date, and told himself to just, get over it, get over Cook.

It really wasn't working, which was kind of upsetting.

Even his family had noticed that he was moping, and after everyone asking him what was wrong, and if he still felt sick, he finally (sort of) admitted what was bothering him. Well, kind of.

"David," his mother said, stroking his hair with one hand, "it's okay, you can tell us. We just don't like to see you unhappy, especially when you were _so_ happy a day ago. What's wrong?"

He hated lying to his family. So maybe he could, um, bend the truth? "I - you know that guy, um, at the ranch, Cook? He's just - he's a really good guy. And we like, I don't know, hit it off. I'm going to miss him." It wasn't like David was unpopular or anything at home, but it was true that he had more female friends than male friends, and he could see understanding dawn on his mother's face.

"Oh, honey. It's nice that you made a friend! You too can still talk though, can't you? I mean, it's amazing what today's technology can do!" David stared at her, smiling weakly as she went on and on about how just the other week she and his aunt had finally figured out to video chat, and wasn't that the weirdest thing in the world? And then his thoughts started to trail off, and he wondered if maybe Cook had a camera in his computer, and maybe if they ... Wow, okay, way not appropriate when his mother is literally _right there_. And thinking about it just makes him remember that night, at Cook's place, and that sort of makes him sad again, because - well, it's never going to happen again. He has to turn away.

"It's just kind of hard. I mean, I meet a cool person, and now we have to go back home." His mother just tutted and kissed the top of his head, and he couldn't help but think what she would say if she knew the _truth_. The he'd let, that he and Cook had done, well, _that_ , and he didn't regret it, not a bit. The only thing he regretted was - well he just really liked Cook, okay? But it wasn't exactly like there were a ton of places to meet guys in _Murray_ , Utah, so this had been good, great even.

So why did he feel so terrible?

 

It was bittersweet when Cook called him to say goodbye. It was kind of awesome, because it was only kind of awkward in the beginning when David had answered and said "Hello?" and Cook had said "It's Cook," and David had said "I know?" because, well, he had caller ID? And then there was this pause when neither of them knew what to say, because, like, where do you go from there? But then Cook had sort of laughed, and told him that Neal had accidentally stuck his hands in some poison ivy, and then rubbed his face, and now he was all blotchy and red and swollen, and it shouldn't be funny because that stuff is really painful and uncomfortable, but Neal just looked _hilarious_ , and the awkwardness completely melted away.

It was so _cool_ , just trading stories like that. David told Cook about seeing one of the big flower gardens in town, and Cook admitted he'd never even been to one (and David had sort of squeaked and then chastised him and made Cook _promise_ that on his next day off he'd go and visit them) and they talked for almost an _hour_ , just about nothing and everything. It only got awkward again when it was time to say goodbye, because David still had to pack, and they were leaving _so_ early in the morning, like, six in the morning early flight to Utah, and it just, it just got so weird.

"So, did you, uh, did you have fun?"

David was a little stunned. Did he have _fun?_ "Um, yeah. I really liked it here. Everything was really, um, cool." He paused. "Except for getting run off with a horse, that part was kind of scary." He expected Cook to laugh, or like, crack a joke, but he didn't. There was just this awful silence down the line.

"I'm sorry," Cook said, finally, and David was _completely_ confused. What was Cook sorry about? Daisy running off with him? For kissing him behind the barn? For having _sex_ with David?

"I'm not," David said, trying to be bold and, well, failing. His voice wavered. "I'm not sorry. I'm - I'm really glad."

Cook groaned a little, and it sounded muffled, like maybe he had his hand over his face? And that made David wonder if he was maybe laying on his back, and if he was wearing his jeans, or maybe he was already dressed for bed? And then he wondered what 'dressed for bed' Cook would look like, because the last time he'd seen Cook in a bed they'd be _naked_ and, oh - David squirmed a little.

"I've never met anyone quite like you, Archie," Cook said finally, and he's said that before about David, in the bar, and it still doesn't sound like an insult, it still sounds really kind of, um, awed, and like, affectionate. David's heart does this twisty, squeezy thing in his chest, and suddenly he's gripping the phone way too tight.

"Could you, um-" and oh my gosh, what is he doing? "What - I mean, what are you wearing?" Except he kind of forgot to breathe during that sentence? So it came out as 'whatareyouwearing' all fast and slurred and nervous. Clearly, it took Cook a few minutes to figure it out too, because there was a blank silence over the line.

" _What?_ Oh, oh _no_ , no way. Go pack, Archuleta." Except he sounded kind of strained, like it hurt to say it. Still, his point was clear. David nodded a little, before remembering that he was on the _phone_ , gosh, Cook couldn't see him, and he cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Okay. You'll um, you'll email me, right? And we'll, we'll talk." Because he _needed_ to know, he needed to know this wasn't over, not totally. He needed that validation from Cook, just that crumb.

"Of course, man. I'll never forget you," and from anyone else it might have sounded cheesy, but David just felt his pulse jump and heat flush through his body when Cook said it.

"Okay then."

"Alright."

"Um, goodbye."

"G'night Arch."

"...I have to pack."

Cook sounded amused. "I know you do."

"So hang up!" David said, grinning.

"Archie..."

"Okay, okay. Can I just, um," David stumbled, blushing hard, "you're really. You're a really great guy. I'm going to miss you. Um, all of you." And then he hung up, really fast, because maybe that was crossing a line? And it was almost an innuendo. Maybe? He wasn't really sure what counted as an innuendo, because, um, he didn't get a lot of chances to practice them.

A minute later his phone buzzed.

 _"You're such a brat!" - Cook_

He kept smiling through the whole night.

 

The next day was awful though. They got on the plane, and the plane took off, and suddenly David felt sick. Physically ill to stomach, and he wanted to throw up, and maybe cry, a little, but he couldn't because he was in the window seat, cramped next to Daniel and Jazzy, so he just pressed his forehead against the cool plastic and pressed his fist against his mouth and tried not to gag on how he felt.

He couldn't stop thinking about Cook. He couldn't stop thinking about how Cook had stared at him, from the very first moment, and how Cook's voice had sounded, sliding over him, and he couldn't stop remembering how Cook had looked, leaning over him, his chest heaving a little, slick with sweat, and he felt, oh, he felt like he could still feel Cook's hands on him, and his fingers -

David squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. This would fade, in time. It _had_ too. It was just a crush. An admittedly really big, really dramatic crush, but people totally got over crushes all the time. I mean, it sucked for a while, right, and then they moved on. (He just hadn't expected the time between crushing and getting over it to hurt so _much_.) And it wasn't like Cook had abandoned him or anything. Cook hadn't _broken his heart_. And they'd stay in touch. It would be okay. It would.

 

It was not okay. Well, alright, it did stop hurting so much when they had landed, and David saw he had a new text from Cook that said _"Hope you made it safe and sound. Eleanor rolled in her manure. I hate gray horses."_ The little knot in his stomach had unwound, and then he didn't really have much time to think about Cook because he was heading home, and everyone was tired but happy and buzzing about what to tell their friends and what they were going to do next and moaning about wanting to sleep in their own beds. It was easy to let himself drift along in their conversation until they got home, and then he unpacked and then he just _crashed_ onto his bed and slept at least twelve hours, straight. Apparently Oklahoma had really taken it out of him.

But things didn't ever really get better. The next six months were kind of a blur, since he'd been accepted to start at BYU Utah in the upcoming Fall semester, and there was a lot of planning and packing and then freaking out not only on his part, but on his parents' parts too. He exchanged emails and phone calls and many, _many_ text messages with Cook, and even though he'd expected the ache in his chest to kind of lessen the more they talked and the more they became friends, that really, really wasn't the case. Like, at all.

Cook was still Cook, and David still really liked Cook, even when he sent him to these terrible joke sites (and that must be where Cook got all his jokes because these were, honestly, _horrible jokes_ ) or sent him pictures of when Jason got kicked by Bluebird, one of the ponies on the ranch. (Ew! That bruise was like, enormous! And _rainbow colored_. David had been horrified. He'd immediately called Cook to find out if Jason was really okay or not, and Cook had laughed for about five minutes when David had said "He could have tissue damage, oh my gosh!" and David had figured Jason was probably okay, or Cook wouldn't be laughing so hard.) Cook sent him lots of emails, full of stories, pictures of him on the ranch, or at home, and some with the band, on stage. He sent David music clips, either stuff Cook was working on, or songs from other bands he just really liked, and sometimes he bullied David into buying CDs that he would normally never try, but it was Cook, and somehow Cook got him to try new things.

There were nights that David would go through his computer and stare at the saved pictures of Cook, and he'd feel his body get hot and tingly, and sometimes he'd have to go lay down, but the feeling wouldn't go away. So he'd think of Cook, and he'd close his eyes, and he'd try to remember exactly how Cook had touched him. He'd strip off his shirt and let his hands ghost along his chest, and he'd blush, all the way to his toes. But it felt so _good_ , and it made his chest tight and warm and pretty soon he was gasping for breath, his hand wrapped around his erection as he bit his lip and tried not to say Cook's name.

It was a struggle, every time.

Moving into the dorms at BYU was an experience. He'd been so nervous that he'd actually called Cook and freaked out at him, about college, about his roommate, about his family, and babbled something like "I swear you're the only one I can talk to, you're the only one who gets me" which was just, like, _stupid_. But Cook had calmed him down, told him to take it one step at a time, and that there would be people to help and guide him. It was - it was awesome to hear his voice, especially in that low, soothing voice he used on the nervous horses. It made David's insides knot up a little, happily.

Besides his roommate was totally cool, and um, really really cute too. Benton was _so_ nice, and he was really into music _too_ , and they just, they totally hit it off. For the first time, David thought he might actually get over Cook. (Even though that low ache in his chest said otherwise.)

 

Cook got sort of weird around October. David had been talking to him on the phone, gushing about Benton's latest gig because, wow! The guy was so awesome and nice, and just, he was a real natural, and David was kind of jealous of quiet confidence and ease on the stage. And it was _so_ nice of Benton to take him there too, and like, make sure he had a good seat, and he'd even like, waved and smiled at David before the set and kept looking over, as if he was making sure David was having a good time (as if he could have a _bad_ time, oh my gosh) and -

"Arch." Cook cut him off, sounding tired. "I really have to sleep. I'm glad you had a good time," only it didn't sound like he was that glad at all? "but I can barely keep my eyes open. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" David had said okay, and hung up.

But Cook didn't talk to him the next day. Or the _next_ day. And he didn't email him once throughout the week. David was actually starting to get _worried_ like, what if something bad had happened to Cook? (and he didn't even want to think about it, not when his throat closed up the way it did, and how his heart started to pound so fast) when he finally got a text message the next Saturday.

 _"How'd your final go?" - Cook_

David had _almost_ wanted to lie and say it had gone badly because he was too busy worrying about Cook, but Benton had helped him study and focus, so he'd actually done really well. But telling Cook that - he'd just clammed up again, and said something about going out with the guys for hot wings, or something. Which was totally understandable, but it still, it kind of hurt, you know? It was almost like Cook was shutting him out of his life. But that was silly. Um, wasn't it?

 

Despite thinking that Benton was really cute and all, whenever David took the time to, um, touch himself, like in the shower (because obviously it was way harder to do it when you had a _roommate_ , oh my gosh, and he still felt like, _so_ dirty and ashamed afterwards, like Benton could _tell_ or something!) he always thought of Cook. One time he had even, um, he had like braced himself against the shower wall and sort of, run his fingers down, um, but in the end he couldn't do it, it was way too embarrassing, even though, even though, like, he _wanted_ , so bad. It was a weird, physical _need_ and it scared him a little. He wanted that feeling back, of something, _someone_ pressing into him and filling him up.

He'd scrubbed extra hard that day in the shower, leaving his skin bight red from hot water and exuberant soaping.

Nothing had changed, not for David. He had sort of come to terms with it, the fact that he was kind of head over heels in love with Cook, and probably had been from the start. Becoming his friend, really getting to know him hadn't made his feelings go _away_ , they'd only made them more _real_. Now he wasn't just in love with the dashing, rugged cowboy who'd saved him, but this genuine, nice, funny, _amazing_ human being, who also happened to be really, really hot. It was hopeless, and even though David had accepted that, it didn't hurt any less being so far from him. He didn't even know if Cook still thought about David like that, or if David had become like, this guy in Cook's life, just a fixture, just a fling who became a sort-of-friend. (Okay, okay, David was being down on himself. He knew Cook cared for him a lot, as a friend. It was just not knowing what was going on in the other man's head that was killing him.)

He got a very strange email from Cook around mid-November, when he was preparing for mid-terms and planning what day to go home for Thanksgiving (his mom wanted him there the whole week, but David kind of, um, liked the peace and quiet the dorm gave him, and Benton was going back home for the whole week, so he'd even have a couple days all to _himself_ ). It was full of weird, specific questions like "What dorm are you in?" and "How would you get to the campus from the airport?" and very cryptic and with none of the usual personality that Cook usually injected into his emails. But David had mid-terms and didn't really think about it until the last day of classes and he was headed back to the dorm, exhausted and ready to pass out on his bed.

Benton was already in the room, and he was packing cheerfully, clearly ready to go home and see his family. David watched him, glad he decided to stay a few extra days of the week off. Murray wasn't far from the college at all, only about a forty five minute drive, and David kind of saw his family a _lot_. He went over Sunday evenings to have dinner with them, and drove over to see Daniel's sporting events, and just like, whenever he missed them, they weren't far away. David rolled over onto his stomach on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. There was a knock at the door, and he heard Benton say "I'll get it," before it opened.

"Um, yes? Can I help you?" And that was Benton's 'polite' voice, the one he used when he wasn't sure what to do in a situation, which wasn't very often.

"I'm here to see Archie," and oh my _gosh_ , oh my gosh!

"I think you have the wrong room-" Benton was saying, already trying to close the door, but David was on his feet and running over to them.

" _Cook?_ " He asked, incredulous, and opened the door to see him _standing there_ , in cowboy boots and jeans, though at least he was wearing a t-shirt and not one of those ridiculous plaid button ups. And no cowboy hat. Still, he looked entirely out of place, clutching a ratty old duffle bag and grinning as big and as wide as David had every seen him smile.

And then it hit him. Cook was here. Cook was _here_.

"Oh my gosh!" He squeaked out, then launched himself into Cook's arms, which forced the other man to drop his duffle, but it was so worth it when his strong arms wrapped around David, and David wanted to sob with how right it felt. He buried his face into Cook's chest and breathed in, looking for that horsey-grungy smell, but he just smelled like soap, and a little bit of aftershave, which made David's stomach kind of flip unexpectedly.

It only took that little bit, and all of David's repressed attraction came bounding back. He yanked away as if burned, afraid that if he stayed too long in Cook's arms he might, he might start - well, it wouldn't be good, especially not in front of Benton and, oh my gosh, he'd totally forgotten!

Benton was staring at the two of them, clearly bewildered.

"Oh! Um, Benton, this is Cook! Cook, this is Benton Paul." Cook gave Benton a feral little smile (kind of like the one he gave that guy in the bar, all those months ago and, oh, um) and reached out to grip his hand.

"Hi," he said, "Archie talks about you all the time," and it's sort of, like, weirdly _vicious_. David can't believe how rude he's being!

Benton looked cautious. "Yeah, um, Archie?" And he glanced back at David, "He's mentioned you a couple of times. You saved his life. Thanks for that," and Benton does this big grin, but it makes Cook scowl even more, and David is just _totally_ confused.

"Cook, what are you doing here?" And the visceral reaction he's having to Cook being here, in the same room, looking so _good_ , is a little embarrassing. He can't seem to stay away, gravitating closer and reaching out to touch his forearm, as if making sure he's real. Benton fades into the background, zipping up his suitcase.

"I came to surprise you! I didn't know how long I had before you wanted to go back to your family, but I figured I had the weekend, at least." Cook smiled at him, and David had that weird, old, swoony feeling again. He nodded, and gestured to the dorm.

"Technically guests aren't supposed to stay here? But um, Benton's leaving in like, half an hour to go home, and I won't tell if you won't?" He nervously toyed with the hem of his shirt. "I mean, if you want to stay with me."

"Hell yeah, I want to stay with you!" David saw Benton look up sharply out of the corner of his eye. He winced. Cook didn't notice. "That sounds awesome."

 

They made awkward, stilted conversation, the three of them, until Benton left, with David shifting closer, and closer to Cook, unable to stop himself from leaning against him, and staring at him, because this was kind of unbelievable. It made his breath catch in his throat, that Cook was willing to buy a plane ticket and _fly out_ to see him, and he was pretty sure the adoration was just pouring from his eyes.

Cook seemed pretty pleased with himself, especially when Benton left. He sprawled out on David's roommate's bed and laughed, which was confusing to David because, what was so funny? But then he had to go over and touch Cook's leg, and that made Cook stop laughing, and he sat up.

Suddenly his gaze was very serious, and very intense, and David's breath caught for entirely different reason. (Or maybe it was the same reason in a different way.) He wasn't sure but, it almost seemed like, maybe -

The intense look vanished, and Cook pulled away a little bit. "Hey, I bought a new horse."

So surprised by the change in conversation, David almost didn't respond, just blinked at him for a minute. "Oh!" He finally said, and then leaned back as well.

"Wanna see pictures?" And of course David wanted to see pictures.

It was this dirty, skinny little thing, all brown with big sad eyes and sort of a dejected demeanor. David was surprised because both Daytripper and Eleanor were really proud, majestic animals who had gleaming coats and held their heads high. This one was just - sad. She looked really, really sad.

"She was going to the meat market," Cook said softly, tapping the photo, "but I saved her."

"What's her name?" David asked.

"Sparrow. Well, she's so little, so I call her Little Sparrow, like the - "

"The Dolly Parton song." David grinned up at Cook. "Wow. That is so like you." Cook colored immediately and rubbed the back of his neck, like he did when he was a little embarrassed. "Do you sing to her too?" David teased, and laughed when Cook scowled because that meant he _totally did!_

"She likes it," Cook said gruffly, but it was sweet, and David's heart ached, and he longed for Cook to _kiss_ him in that moment.

"So. Is that why you flew out to Utah? To show me your new horse?" It was an honest question, no malice behind it, but he still saw Cook's face go blank for a few minutes, before growing serious.

"No." And that word in itself held so much conviction that David froze, just staring at Cook. "No, I didn't fly out here for that. But - " Cook paused and looked at the clock. "It's getting late. Why don't we grab some dinner and go to bed." David hesitated - Cook had looked so _serious_ , and yet now he wanted to go get dinner and put it off until morning? That seemed very strange. But he was willing to go along, if it made Cook happy.

They talked about David's classes, and the yearlings at the ranch (who were way too rambunctious, Cook complained, and should really be foisted on Neal), and then Cook got this shy little smile on his face and revealed that he and the band might be picked up by an indie label the coming winter, and they could cut a record within the next year.

"Oh my gosh! Cook! That's awesome!" He leaned across the table in excitement, and grabbed a hold of Cook's forearm, squeezing. Cook glanced down at it, and then at David's face. His eyes were bright and warm, and David felt kind of out of control happy, like if it could be like this all the time he might explode from the way he felt.

"It's just a possibility," Cook cautioned, even though he was grinning, all boy-like and unrestrained, "it may not even happen."

After their meal, they went back to the dorm and David made Cook sleep in his bed, insisting it would be weird for Cook to stay in _Benton's_ bed, especially because um, they didn't seem to like each other very much (not that he said that last part, he just made something up about Benton and Cook being strangers, and well, Cook didn't seem to put up much of a fight). There was a moment after he let Cook use his shower, and Cook had come out still wet and kind of dripping, and David had to bunch the sheets up in his fists to keep from moving, anchoring himself to the bed in the best way he knew how. He had turned around quickly, facing the wall and trying to keep his heart from beating so loudly. He was _sure_ Cook could hear it.

"Night Arch," he heard from the other side of the room. David squeezed his eyes closed and bit his tongue, pretending to be asleep. He wasn't sure he could talk without giving himself away. Cook sighed, and then there was the rustling of sheets, and silence.

David didn't fall asleep for a long time.

 

The next morning things seemed normal, even though Cook slept for _ever_ , oh my gosh! He finally woke him up at eleven, having been up since eight himself (and that was kind of late to him, gosh, he didn't even go running) and unable to stand seeing Cook sprawled out in the bed, the covers tugged down low and his arm thrown across his face.

He'd made Cook breakfast (cereal), and encouraged him to get dressed as he cleaned up a little. It was sort of domestic and weird, but it made butterflies flutter in his stomach as he made the beds and shoved Cook's dirty clothes back into his duffle bag. It wasn't until Cook was fully dressed and looking way more awake (though his hair was still a mess, all bed-head and sticking up in the back - it made David grin from behind his hand) that David took a deep breath and stood in front of the older man, hands on his hips.

"Are you going to tell me the real reason you're here? Because, trust me, I'm - I'm _unbelievably_ happy you're here, but it's kind of, um, out of the blue? Like, you didn't even call!" David stood his ground, even as Cook raised an eyebrow. "I mean, there's got to be a reason. Please tell me there's a reason." And, oh shoot, his voice cracked a little on the last phrase. Cook's face went from amused to serious in one swift moment, and he stepped forward and held David's shoulders.

"There is a reason," he said quietly, and that expression that David loved so much was back on his face, where his eyes were all warm and intense and his mouth went soft and gentle. His hands stroked down David's arms and he shivered, even though it wasn't cold at all in his room. Cook licked his lips and looked suddenly nervous, and David felt anxious and worried like, what if Cook was going to give him bad news? And had to give it in person? Oh my gosh! That was totally it! Cook was moving to Africa, or Brazil, and he wouldn't have cell service, or internet access or -

Cook's mouth pressed against his gently, his lips sliding over David's with such sweet, slow purpose, his hands cupping David's elbows. David stood there, shocked, until he literally just _fell_ against Cook, his hands coming up to balance himself against Cook's chest, their mouths still attached. Cook started to pull away and David thought _'No! Oh my gosh, no!'_ and let out this awful little whimper and surged up, sealing their lips together again. He opened up for Cook and let all his feelings from the past six months pour into that kiss, all the desperation and the want and the _need_ , every time he'd dreamed of this, every time he touched himself and imagined it was Cook.

Cook's arms wrapped around him, and suddenly there was a lot more heat in their kiss, and David could feel arousal curl up in his abdomen, warming him from the inside out and making him bold, his teeth fastening on Cook's lower lip and tugging gently, before kissing the hurt away. Cook groaned low and one hand slid to rest in the small of his back, his thumb brushing over the swell of David's, um. And he _burned_ for it, his hips pressing forward even as he tried to push back into the pressure of Cook's hand, his own little hitching breaths so _embarrassing_ but he was so far past caring, it wasn't even funny. Cook pulled back, and that was probably a good thing.

"So um," David tried to catch his breath, his body still flush against Cook, "was that the reason?"

Cook laughed, and David _felt it_ throughout his whole body. That swoony feeling? Yeah, he held on a little tighter. "Yeah, that was the reason."

"I'm kind of in love with you," David blurted out and then clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified. What the heck had he just said? I mean, it was _true_ (and oh heck, it was true, it _was_ true!) but that was no reason to _tell Cook about it_!

Cook stared at him for a long moment and then reeled him in, kissing him again, his hand on the back of David's head, cradling him. He pulled off with a breathless chuckle. "Do you think I flew all the way to Utah because you're a good kisser?" He teased, his hand tangled in David's hair, and wow, okay that was making it sort of hard to focus, because David was pretty sure Cook was saying - "I'm kind of in love with you too, Arch."

David doesn't really remember what happened after that except Cook is kissing him and then they're on the bed and oh, _oh_ , he remembered _this_ -

This time he won't let go.


End file.
